1: Ouroboros

[Airan]

During uneventful shifts, the Night Scouts of Nest would often scurry into the upper limbs of the oaks and aspens and take turns napping safely in their boughs. There, high in the trees, they could sleep without fear of the world below.

Not knowing whether the Suneater still lurked within the Veil, Mekai chose to follow their example. 

Choosing a tall fir, she scaled to a sturdy branch at its zenith and looped a long rope around the trunk and her waist- as Skoven had shown her to do. Then she secured it tight with one of Bard's knots.

Safe high in her perch at the edge of the wood, Mekai understood now why the Scouts chose to sleep there. Safety from below, sure, but truly it had to be for what was above. Within the canopy, the sky was a painter and his work a canvas of stars. They shone within blackness like the runes on the backs of her paws, a million guiding lights in the dark.

Halfway asleep, Mekai nearly slipped from the tree in a sudden jolt. Anybeast who looked up would see them. Frantically, she wrapped her paws in strips of gauze and slumped back against the tree trunk. With the memories of the day swimming back in her head, the stars could do little to ease her worries. For somewhere below, there was a creature big enough to easily blot them out. 

Mekai closed her eyes but rest didn't come, held back by constant images of fire, blood, and of Forsyth's broken corpse. An hour passed, and every creaking timber became his pawsteps shaking the earth. Every rustling leaf, his ragged breaths pulsing through the trees. The sable pulled her shroud tighter around herself and fished into her pack for one of her tonics.

It was a blend of chamomile and valerian root, made to help Scouts sleep through the day, and tasted not quite sweet, but not quite bitter on her tongue. The lights still shone above, but as her eyes drooped, they gave way to blackness.

And then it happened in an instant.

A bright flash as every light shot through the sky, twirling, circling, dancing. Not in order, but in chaos. Like a thousand fireflies, they flashed and faded, whirled and pranced across its blackness, until finally, they locked paws and became one- a single glowing symbol stretching across the night sky. A seer's rune resembling that of a bird stretching its wings.

"A sign for those to follow," came a whisper.

Mekai looked around her for the source.

The Veil screamed in pain as flames burst suddenly forth from the ground below Mekai and tore through the forest. Wood splintered. Timber cracked. The sable writhed frantically and clawed at the rope securing her to the tree, but it held fast against her struggles.

The flames hissed and grabbed at her with flailing limbs like that of some starving, bloodthirsty creature. A tendril wrapped itself tight around her hanging footpaw and she yanked it away, howling.

She reached desperately for the stars.

But the sky turned black, replaced with a face she prayed she would never see again. Tied to the tree, Mekai's only choice was to turn away and clench her eyes shut. The Suneater's maw curled into a cruel smile before it unhinged and fell upon the screaming sable.

In the quiet darkness, ten arrows circled Mekai, each with a different colored feather at its end.

Red, like blood.

Blue, like the sea.

Gold, like the sun.

Cyan, like ice.

Green, like the forest.

Pink, like a flower.

Orange, like pollen from its bud.

Purple, like pale smoke.

Grey, like a stone.

White, like the stars.

And then there was light.

A drop of fresh dew dripped upon Mekai's snout and startled the young sable awake. She huffed fearful breaths as she blinked at the blue sky in front of her, her ears twitching as morning birdsong echoed around the forest. There was no Suneater, no fire. And she calmed.

Not yet at least.

Only a moment passed before she recalled her dream. Arrows of different colors. A rune in the sky.

"A sign. For those to follow," Mekai repeated to herself. It was Unfurled Wings, recalling the rune from one of Eula's teachings. The sable looked to the bag of powder at her waist, sighed, and drew the mark on her forehead.

The seer untied the rope from around her waist and rose to her footpaws on the bough, the sudden movement causing a trio of magpies to scatter in flight. The seer watched them fly.

From her height, Mekai could watch them soar across the entire Northlands if she wanted to, the green hills rolling deep into the horizon as they turned to stone and sea. Villages and stone keeps dotted the landscape. But the birds' flight brought with them something else to Mekai's vision. A path, dusty and trodden, that wound within the hills and twisted further north to the mountains beyond.

Where warriors tread.

Capped lanterns burned bright within the confines of the dragon ship's hull, shining orange on a pilfered array of objects stacked high within different piles on the room's floor. Vases, tools, sculptures, books, coins, children's toys. Each object trembled with just a step as he moved from pile to pile, a rune like the face of an owl carved into the tops of his massive paws.

A wooden candlestick, a coin set with an ivory cord, and a clay vase were selected from the piles and put within his reach. His eyes flickered over them, taking in the curious scrawl and etchings on their surfaces.

"Where did you find this one?" the hulking creature spoke, looking to the coin.

A stoat donned in a cloak of wolverine fur and horned helm behind him squinted and flipped through a pad of parchment, a bead of sweat rolling from his brow as the creature's shadow fell over him. His eyes piped wide as he found what he was looking for. "Badger crone. Marked with the same kinda stuff you are."

Under the shadow, he dared not meet his gaze.

"Another seer."

He took the candlestick into his paw first, claws curling tight around the object as he shut his eyes.

Even without eyes, an object could remember, and a slow smile crept to the beast's lips as his drawn rune brought a wash of feelings and smells to his senses. As if he stood beside it, the flames of a stone oven warmed his fur and the clatter of plates being passed around a table resounded in his ears. He sucked in a breath, taking in the smells of cinnamon and sugary jam, of kneading dough and nut loaves rising-

The Suneater's eyes snapped open. "Bakers. It belongs to a family of bakers."

He tossed the pieces of the broken candlestick haphazardly to the side and reached for the coin as, steps behind him, the stoat scribbled his words into his pad.

Eclipsing the coin, new feelings came. Rain, warmth, death, cold. The passing of seasons, and the laughter of the young. He felt tiny, careless paws of every little species grab at his garments, longing for just a smile and a glance.

Suneater threw the pieces of the coin where he'd thrown the candlestick. "A mother, but not of her own."

As the stoat continued his scribbling, Suneater reached for the final object. The clay vase's contents jostled the same as sand and he immediately knew what it was for. He closed his eyes.

Fire. Death. Screams. Steel. Over and over again throughout the seasons. And at the center of it all was one beast, kissed by the flames. Suneater opened his eyes. "Put it with the others."

The soldier took the vase of ash to a separate corner where countless scores of other objects were placed, all having given off the same feelings of death, ruin, and tragedy. Regardless of who they were or where they came from, it seemed as though the villagers of Nest all hailed from similar circumstances.

The beast he sought was hidden well, but he would sniff them out all the same.

A stench reached his nose from the hull doors and Suneater swung them open before the beasts outside had the chance to knock.

The first, a young mink, bowed so low in his presence that his stubby little helmet threatened to slide from his head. The second, a rat, knelt on one knee, supporting above him a trembling platter laden with colorful fruits. "Suneater, t-th-thank you for- for protecting us. We bring you gifts."

He regarded the little beasts and their gift.

"Faithful children. You have travelled with me far beyond our icy kingdom to these distant shores and done nothing but laden me with worship and tributes. I am humbled by your generosity, but I assumed by now you would know," he addressed them, his voice rising to a steady growl, "I do not eat fruit."

They exchanged glances, and hastily pleaded to the third beast, a lynx, as he tugged at the end of a rope held in his paw. For the first time, Suneater noticed the wrinkled hag of a vixen bound at the other end of it. The soldier grabbed her by the scruff and threw her roughly to her knees in front of the giant, placing a paw to her scalp and forcing her to bow as he did the same. "Then please take her."

As Suneater studied their prisoner, a feeling like electricity surged through his skin and flesh, and his mouth twisted into a knowing smile. The vixen stopped writhing beneath him as the same feeling surged in her fur.

"I accept your tribute."

Within the darkened hull Suneater and Meliandre were alone in silence save for the quiet waves outside. The wrinkled vixen sat huddled far away from the beast, his massive ebony form fading within the shadows until only red eyes remained peering at her in the dark.

"Were you treated well?"

Meliandre retreated to a corner, his sudden question like the crack of a whip on her back. "You're not going to eat me?"

"I've already eaten today." Meliandre remembered the hare she'd found in pieces in the forest and averted her gaze away from the creature's slobbering maw. "Besides, I only eat certain beasts."

"And what types are those, pray tell?" she sneered.

"Tell me, seer," he said, "have you ever asked yourself why Fate made you what you are? Why a fox? Why not a mouse?"

"I don't see how it matters. I'd be the same beast either way," Meliandre replied.

The Suneater snorted as if the vixen's answer had been a joke. "Would you? A mouse's claws can't dig through dirt the same as yours, nor do they have the fangs to tear meat like you do. All the same, the wolverine tribes of my land are also unlike you. Their teeth are bigger, sharper. Theirs would surely snap your neck in an instant if they found their way around it. And if you fought back, if you tried to do the same to them, their hides were built tougher than yours- you'd never pierce through. Does that not make them the better hunter, the better killer than you?"

The giant stepped forth, flexing claws curved like long sickles and fangs as huge and pointed as the vixen's ears. "So, I ask you, why did Fate make me this, if not to be a better killer?" Meliandre clenched her eyes shut as Suneater suddenly crouched more to her level, hot breath blowing against her cheek. A small line of blood dripped from the shaking vixen's chin as he traced one of his claws gently under it. Then, without warning, he lowered it.

"But I am not a killer."

Meliandre opened her eyes.

"When I was young, I grew hungry and restless, and in my wandering, I came upon a band of foxes camped close to a village of mice," Suneater said, "These beasts, they thought themselves big. They thought themselves scary. I remember how they screamed as I spilt their blood into the snow, while their measly little weapons left nothing on me but scratches. It was only when I finished swallowing that I realized that these creatures had been brigands terrorizing this village. The mice who lived there saw what I did and when I'd had my fill, they circled me, and thanked me for what I'd done.

"They took me to their home, dressed what few wounds I had, and chittered about how their prayers were answered. They worshipped me. They called me a god. And when I grew hungry again, they fed me."

Meliandre backed further against the wall.

"Dreams brought me past mountains and through cities frozen in ice, into castle keeps, and across raging battlefields, yet everywhere I went it was the same story. Beasts who carried blades and thought themselves bigger than they were. Beasts who cowered because Fate made them helpless. I kept them and their borders safe, and they paid their tribute each season I returned. Until a rabbit from some farming village told me 'no', he wouldn't give me the beast I wanted. So, I took them. And I took everybeast else too."

Suneater's laugh echoed through the room.

"Those are the beasts I eat, crone. The ones I'm owed and the ones who refuse to give me my tithe, the belligerents and the ones who spit in the face of my protections. The ones who don't know their place. The ones who look me in the eyes and dare tell me 'no'," he snarled.

"And the hare from Nest?"

"He ran when I told him to stop."

Meliandre braved another question. "What do you want from me?"

Suneater answered. "I've dreamed of a beast dwelling within Nest, a warrior without fear whose very first act of life was to kill. Fate foretells they will summon ten beasts to slay me and, in so doing, bring calamity and an unstoppable ruin to my domain- and to yours." The giant's footsteps echoed the clattering of chains within Meliandre's ears as he strode about the hull, plucking up lanterns, spyglasses, and candles in his grip. As he began carving a circle into the floor, he spoke again like a master would to a slave. "I will protect you from this evil beast. You will give me your power in return. We are two seers. Entwined, we have the power to find them and snuff them out."

"N-no."

"No?" Suneater's fangs clenched at the word, but he paused realizing the vixen was not defiant, but bore a different tone. He knelt back down to her level, his eyes roving over her until they spotted peeking from her sleeves the chafing of aged scars encircling her wrists. "I see... kissed by flames, just like the rest. You poor creature. No doubt once used by some warlord for your gifts. But there is no reason to fear." He dragged a claw across his palm, blood seeping from the wound. "For I will protect you. Always.

"Now. Will you give me what's owed? Or shall I take it?"

The gentleness masking the predator's insatiable hunger faded as he smiled and extended his bloodied paw towards her, claws twitching in anticipation.

Meliandre looked to her own, so small in comparison, and trembled.

Blood still dripped from Suneater's palm when he strode from the hull and onto the upper decks, barking at the first beast he saw. "Fetch me the envoy. Now."

The weasel's mop clattered to the deck as he bowed and instantly did as he was told. Moments later, he returned with a rat following close behind.

Commander Stallworth was a portly beast made stone-like by seasons under crashing waves, his fur tinged silver and coarse with the crisp traces of salt caught permanently beneath. He carried with him a scent of clove that pushed past his sailor's musk and the kind of self-important gait that belonged to somebeast highborn, not a common seafarer.

He stepped willingly into the giant's shadow and bowed low with a gentle flourish of his paw.

"You requested my presence?"

Unlike the other beasts on the deck who shrouded themselves in the hides of great beasts and wore helmets with their horns, Stallworth did not hail from the Suneater's domain, sticking out among them in his coat and jerkin colored unlike anything possible in their own land. In truth, he was merely a guide, conscripted to give them as much information about this land as he possibly could.

Among these unfamiliar beasts, the first thing Stallworth learned to do was bow. A stoat, ungrateful for the Suneater's protection, didn't, and the rat saw firsthand how he was dragged screaming to the giant's feet and given to him as tribute. Still, the old sailor was the only beast aboard who dared match his gaze, and Suneater wondered which god he truly bowed to- him or the gold promised for his role.

When the beast rose, Suneater spoke. "The Warrior has left their village. I've seen them take a path north towards the mountains. You're to tell me where they're going."

The old rat considered for a moment, tapping his temple with a claw. A moment later his eyes sparked with knowing and he immediately grimaced at the reaction. "Craylock. It's a port built just a few seasons ago juuust past the mountains. I used to sail there; wouldn't you know. If that beast is taking the path north, that's the only place it leads."

"Are there warriors in Craylock?"

Stallworth considered for a moment too long, and Suneater glowered. The old rat tentatively answered. "Aye. Craylock started as just some hosting grounds for pit fights, an homage of sorts to another place, before an expansion some seasons ago brought it closer to the coast. They're still around, last I've checked."

"Gather the crew and unfurl the sails. We're sailing for Craylock."

As the beast stepped past him to get a better look at the mountains beyond, Stallworth grimaced and followed after him, stopping his voice from rising in a panic. "Wait, wait, wait! Are you certain that's... the best strategy? Craylock is absolutely... absolutely filled with warriors. But they're only supposed to bring back ten, right? It would be a better idea to wait. Here, I'll tell you what we should do. 

"If the Warrior's taking the path, they'll be easy to spot. Send some scouts to follow them and bring them back here to you. Meanwhile, I know the best spot to head these beasts off when they return- land or sea- and it's just south of the port. We'll spring a trap, and you'll still be munching on bones before you get back home."

"It's warm here. What if I don't want to go home?"

Stallworth pulled his coat tight as a cold wind blew through his fur. "What- What do you mean?"

Suneater thought of the stack of objects echoing flames and tragedy in the hull below.

"This land sings of pain and fear. It needs a beast to reshape it. It needs a protector."